


The Main Event

by OneEyedDestroyer



Series: Beautiful, Languid, and Filthy-Gorgeous [10]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Consent, Cunnilingus, Light Bondage, Multi, Multiplayer Sex, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Safewords, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, scene negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneEyedDestroyer/pseuds/OneEyedDestroyer
Summary: After a night of champagne and theatrics, Eliot and Margo offer Quentin a chance to get to know them better.





	The Main Event

**Author's Note:**

> So! I may or may not have promised to have this fic written sometime around late February of last year. One thing lead to another and this fic got left on the floor of my google drive while I got Swept Away™️ with my bigger pieces. 
> 
> With HtH and Sharing Skin finally complete, I had the time to finish this bad boy up. 7,000 words and a few shitty drafts later, we have this thing in working order and I hope you guys enjoy. These three are a joy to write together and have such interesting sexual chemistry. 
> 
> There is a little bit of rope play in this fic, but it isn’t terribly intense. A simple binding chest harness is used for anyone who would like a heads up.
> 
> This piece directly follows the events of [ **Sharp Presentation.** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853751)
> 
> As always, extra special thanks The Machete Squad ([ **Rae** ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highestkingbambi) and [ **Vivi** ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivi_Marius)) for whipping this fic into shape.

Darkness settles over the cottage. The hum of summer surrounds them as crickets and katydids sing out their desires. Bathed in moonlight, Quentin sips more of his champagne and sighs at the perfection of the moment. Cool night air drifts around him, slow and refreshing, as he stands beneath the stars, enjoying the company of Eliot and Margo. He looks over at them. They’re huddled together a few steps away by the table and looking deep into each other’s eyes. He wonders if they’ve learned how to communicate telepathically. Tiny smiles and a flick of Margo’s tongue suggest they are wordlessly entertaining some wild idea.

 

“We’d like to invite you to join us tonight,” Eliot says, gesturing with his glass as he takes a step toward Quentin.

 

Quentin’s mouth hangs open, he doesn’t understand, he thought he had already joined them for the night.

 

“For sex, Quentin,” Margo snarks, deadpan. Anticipating his response, she takes another sip of champagne with raised eyebrows.  Her face stoic, the arm draped across her chest is a little blasé, but her eyes spark with excitement. Quentin blinks, laughing nervously at the offer. They can’t be serious.

 

Looking to Eliot for assurance, Quentin double takes, trying to rattle his thoughts loose. “Seriously?” he asks, nervously running a hand through his hair with another awkward laugh. Despite his best efforts, his mind runs a thousand miles per second. He isn’t dumb; it’s easy to gather that Eliot and Margo are wont to share men in some way, but never in a million years did it seem likely that they would want to share him. Sometimes he isn’t sure that Margo even likes him.

 

“Seriously,” Eliot says. Another step closer brings them face to face. Quentin swallows hard, the proximity to Eliot is intoxicating. He smells of bourbon and leather, heady but a little sweet. If Quentin didn’t know any better he’d swear he smelled of old books. He laughs awkwardly, he can’t believe a real person actually smells like this; he always thought it was just cheesy bullshit people made up for romance novels. He wants to comment on Eliot’s choice of fragrance, but he figures he’s already ruining the vibe with his nervous laughter.

 

“What do you say, Q?” Margo asks, approaching him on the side, opposite Eliot. Quentin has never been this close to her. Instinctively, he starts to step out of her way, but Eliot holds him in place by setting a firm hand on his shoulder. Scooting Eliot aside with her hips, Margo slips a hand beneath the collar of Quentin’s shirt. Her fingers play lightly along his chest as she speaks words he is entirely too overwhelmed to register. The way her fingernails scratch along the top of his chest hair sends a chill down his spine. He was so distracted by Eliot, he completely missed her setting down her champagne.

 

Quentin’s mouth has gone terribly dry. With a shaky hand, he brings his champagne to his lips and drains the rest of the glass in a single go. In what Quentin can only assume is an attempt to ease him, Eliot slips the glass from his anxious fingers with a smile that is somewhere between patronizing and endeared. He begins to speak but changes his mind.

Glass in hand, Eliot steps back to the table to set it aside. On his way back, he loosens his tie with languid pulls. The movement looks casual and indifferent, but Quentin has learned enough about Eliot to know he is being teased. Eyes slowly dilating with every tug at the silk, Quentin watches Eliot lazily remove his necktie and pass it to Margo with loose fingers. He’s sure she puts it _somewhere_ , but Quentin is so wrapped up in imaging what those fingers might do next that he doesn’t notice.

 

Slowly, Eliot drums his fingers against his chest, each one landing next to the last with a soft “thump” Quentin can barely hear. He swallows hard and is quickly startled by the realization that Eliot is keenly aware of just how intently he has been watching him. The self-consciousness quickly evaporates when Quentin catches sight of Eliot slipping a couple of his shirt buttons loose. He can’t help but run his tongue over his lips as Eliot parts his shirt just enough to reveal a tiny bit of coarse hair.

 

A small, soft hand snaking its way beneath the back of his sweater sends a visible shiver through Quentin. “Is that a yes?” Margo asks, tracing lazy shapes along the small of his back. Eliot pops another button to coax him along. Another sharp tug at the lapel reveals the toned muscles in his chest. The warm, hazy light from the Edison bulbs hits his skin beautifully, the dark hair where his pectorals meet adds a dramatic shadow. Quentin is almost positive he’s heard Eliot use a word for that effect, but he couldn’t recall it if he wanted to; he’s far too distracted. Mesmerized, he nods slowly. Quentin reaches out to touch Eliot but quickly catches himself; a deep blush begins to crawl its way up his neck as he kicks himself. A devious smile spreading across Eliot’s lips and a throaty laugh from Margo tell Quentin that is all the permission they need.

 

Eliot takes a single step forward, bringing them uncomfortably close. The advance makes Quentin stumble back. Before he can lose his balance, he feels Margo’s hands grip his shoulders to steady him. He begins to turn his head to look at her, but Eliot places a firm finger against his jaw, stopping him in place. A soft stroke of that finger and a small push upward bring Quentin’s eyes level with Eliot’s for the first time tonight—maybe the first time ever. Come to think of it, he’s not sure whose fault that is; eye contact isn’t exactly his strongest skill. Eliot’s eyes are the color of bourbon in dim lighting and are just as intoxicating. Quentin finally understands the appeal of dark liquor.

 

He leans in close, brushing his lips just below Quentin’s ear. “You won’t regret it,” he whispers before taking his ear lobe between his teeth. Quentin starts to melt into the sensation, but Eliot quickly drops to his knees. Diverting his eyes away from Eliot and Margo, Quentin chuckles nervously. He runs a hand through his hair, unsure of what is to come.

 

Quentin tries to take it all in. Eliot Waugh on his knees in front of him, his gorgeously large hands resting on either thigh. Quentin is suddenly very grateful he doesn’t wear one of those watches that yells at you when your heart rate is too high. Eliot strokes soft circles on Quentin’s legs with his thumb but doesn’t make any other moves. What is he waiting for?

 

The fingers at his back soften their grip and slowly walk their way back up to his shoulders. Margo’s hands slide along his arms, in slow, teasing, spirals before working their way back to his shoulders. She grips a little tighter, and he feels her weight on him as she reaches up on her toes. “El’s fantastic with his mouth, I promise,” she says against his neck. Quentin exhales heavily, struck with the realization that he has been holding a breath; that explains Eliot’s hesitation. Margo’s words settle in and Quentin can’t help but wonder exactly how she reached that conclusion, but the thought is quickly short-circuited by Eliot’s fingers working they way to Quentin’s belt buckle.

 

“Wait,” the interjection sounds far more alarmed than he meant it to. Eliot’s hands stop in place but he quickly reconsiders the choice, pulling them away to give Quentin some space. “Are we really gonna—out here?” Quentin assumed they were just putting on some theatrics. Eliot laughs and gently places his hands back on Quentin’s thighs.

 

“That was the plan, but we’ll gladly take you inside if you prefer,” Eliot says, the innuendo is certainly not lost on Quentin as his mouth falls open slightly with a small flick of the tongue. His throat is getting dry again and he is desperately longing for more champagne.

 

“If you’re focused on being outside, we’re not doing it right,” Margo says, laughing.

 

Eliot releases Quentin’s belt buckle, hooking a thumb beneath it to slide the belt free. As he undoes the zipper, Margo slips her hands beneath Quentin’s sweater and begins to pull it up his torso. Without thinking, Quentin raises his arms up so Margo can lift the sweater over his head. When standing on her toes doesn’t get it all the way over, he takes a step back, withdrawing his arms until he’s free. The night air is brisk on his bare skin, sending a shiver down his spine as he reflexively wraps his arms around himself. Allowing her fingers to trace lazily on his back, Margo laughs deep in her throat. Quentin turns to look at her, concerned, and the movement seems to cause her to pull away, but not without letting her fingers glide around to the front of his torso.

 

“Eager,” Margo says, catching Quentin’s eyes, but he has a sneaking suspicion that the statement was meant more for Eliot. “And a little scared,” a wicked smile claims her lips, revealing her teeth. Quentin can’t help but feel like he’s been trapped by expert hunters. “Our favorite!” Quentin’s heart is pounding between his ears, somewhere between nervous and turned on. The warm press of Eliot’s lips on Quentin’s hip bone is nearly electric, causing him to jump. Quentin curses himself for being so affected by such a simple act.

 

Sliding his hands up Quentin’s body, Eliot places a second kiss beneath Quentin’s naval. At the same moment, Margo’s lips meet his neck. She kisses him again, harder, as Eliot places a rough kiss on Quentin’s torso. He wonders if they’ve done this often enough that they have it choreographed down to the second, or if they’re just so in sync with each other that they just so happen to move in perfect symmetry. Before Quentin can get too caught up in wondering, Eliot rises to his feet. He slides a hand behind Quentin’s neck, it’s surprisingly rough against his skin.  Quentin can’t help but wonder how a guy like Eliot has anything but elegantly soft hands.

 

“You’re thinking too hard,” he says with a reassuring smile. “They can practically hear you inside. Relax,” he nuzzles Quentin’s face to the side, to give him better access to his throat.

 

Quentin closes his eyes, preparing himself for the sensation of Eliot’s lips on his neck, but the sharp scratch of Margo’s nails down his back sends a delicious chill through him. The soft caress of Eliot’s lips is intoxicatingly soothing in comparison. Trailing his lips down further, Eliot creates some light suction where Quentin’s throat meets his shoulder. A soft whimper escapes him, lost deep in the moment, he barely registers the sound, but the smile on Eliot’s face confirms they heard it too.  

 

Eliot takes his mouth off of Quentin’s neck and captures his lips in a hungry kiss, his hand taking its place on Quentin’s neck, fingers playing in his hair. Margo laughs; he spoke too soon about being too turned on to be self-conscious. The hands at his back disappear, but he’s entirely too occupied to wonder where they might have gone. Determined to hold his own, he deepens the kiss with a firm stroke of his tongue against Eliot’s. Pleasantly surprised, Eliot’s lips curl into a smile against his before slipping his own tongue to meet Quentin’s. Quentin’s chest warms with pride as Eliot responds. He can’t believe this is actually happening. Hoped, sure, but he never thought this possible. He has a whole world of magic around him, and he still struggles to believe the cool kids would like him.

 

Quentin brings his hands to Eliot’s face (an attempt to maintain his little streak of boldness), but before he can pull him closer, Eliot withdraws his tongue, capturing Quentin’s bottom lip between his teeth. Quentin moans at the roughness; he’s excited, but a little afraid he won’t be able to keep up. He doesn’t want this night to end with Eliot and Margo deciding he isn’t worth their time.

 

Margo!

 

A bit ashamed at forgetting her, Quentin finds himself suddenly very concerned that Margo isn’t getting any attention, he starts to grope at the air in hopes that his touch can find its way to her without need to break away from Eliot. Unable to make contact, he looks around, eyes landing on her just in time to catch her sidestepping his grasp as he gets close to reaching her. He whines into Eliot’s mouth. Her chuckle prompts Eliot to open his eyes to investigate.

 

Eliot’s slight stiffening against Quentin’s lips causes him to pause. When he pulls back, Eliot has locked eyes with Margo, seemingly in silent conversation. They narrow their eyes in pointed glances, communicating through smirks and furrowed brows as Quentin watches, mesmerized. Eliot shoots a nearly punishing look at Margo, but she holds firm, anchoring her hands on her hips.

 

“Play nice, Bambi,” his voice comes out low and gravely honeyed just enough to persuade.

 

Margo steps forward, her footfalls are thankfully muted by the soft grass beneath them. She reaches a hand out to Quentin, who jumps at the motion, and briefly twirls the ends of his hair. _“_ You know I like to play with my food, El.” The words are directed at Eliot, but she is looking directly at Quentin. He swallows hard, flitting a nervous look over at Eliot.

 

“Don’t mind her, Daddy’s going to make you feel good whether she helps or not,” he says, wrapping his hand behind Quentin’s neck to pull him in for another kiss.

 

Eliot’s lips are against his for the second time this evening and it is no less dizzying than the first. A second set of lip finds his neck, and the world might as well be spinning. Quentin whines, hot and bewildered; a few birds fly out of the trees at the sudden sound. As Eliot slips his tongue beyond Quentin’s lips, Margo’s teeth nip along his throat. They’re in perfect balance with each other and he doesn’t even think they’re aware of it. Where Eliot softens, Margo increases the pressure; sharp teeth become languid tongue, back and forth, and back again.

 

Nipping up his neck, Margo slides a hand along Quentin’s jaw. She pulls him away from Eliot, giving him a patronizing coo as she catches the glimpse of disappointment on his face before capturing his lips with her own. Without much time for Quentin to mourn the loss, Eliot’s lips connect hard with his neck as he slips an arm Quentin’s waist. These two really don’t fuck around. Tracing a lazy finger along the hair running from Quentin’s naval, Eliot slides his other hand between them, hooking a finger beneath the band of Quentin’s pants. The progression toward his cock makes him gasp, separating his lips from Margo’s. Expecting her to be angry at the intrusion, Quentin is surprised to see her eyes lit with a devious spark; he has no idea what he’s gotten himself into. Margo pulls Quentin out of Eliot’s grasp. Her lips recapture his with renewed intensity, she wastes no time sliding her tongue back into his mouth.

 

The sharp snapping sound of fabric between Eliot’s hands yanks Quentin’s focus from his thoughts just in time to watch Eliot throw his button down across the lawn. Eliot’s smile manages to be both comforting and cavalier, like an artist proud of a work he hasn’t even created yet. A warm breath at his ear sends a shiver down his spine.

 

“We’re going to ruin you,” Margo whispers before pulling him back into a kiss.

 

In tandem with Margo, Eliot’s mouth returns to Quentin’s neck, sucking hard and biting for good measure. He can already feel the bruises developing and he’d be lying if said he wasn’t a little excited for the looks he’s going to get for them. Another hard nip causes Quentin to moan into Margo’s mouth. As if taking some cue he can’t detect, she breaks away from his lips and connects roughly with the opposite side of his neck. The languid little back and forth from before long gone, replaced by hungry kisses down his torso, much more teeth than tongue. Red and purple marks begin to appear in their wake, the pleasure of it all runs its way down his spine. His pants are uncomfortably tight against his straining cock; he can’t remember the last time making out got him this hard.

 

Eliot works his way down to Quentin’s already open belt, returning to his knees before him, Quentin is stunned by how tall he is, Eliot’s practically eye-level with his throat.  Shifting into place behind Quentin, Margo is the first to slip beneath his pants, her hand is soft, but her grip is firm around him. As she strokes, Eliot finally yanks Quentin’s pants over his legs, looking up with an effortlessly seductive smile. Fixated on Eliot’s lips, Quentin can’t wait to find out if what Margo said is true. He can’t imagine it wouldn’t be, but the anticipation of getting to know for sure is killing him. Quentin licks his lips in anticipation and runs both hands through his own hair as he watches Eliot, impatient but afraid to overstep.

 

The hand on his cock stops, and he feels Margo’s lips on his back, kissing slowly along his torso. Eliot’s hand quickly takes the place of Margo’s as he brings his lips beneath Quentin’s naval, slowly making his way down. Eliot’s lips are maddeningly close to Quentin’s cock; his hips buck involuntarily, aching for more.

 

“Think he’s ready for us, El?” Margo asks softly against Quentin’s side. Eliot responds with a nod and affirmative moan as he pulls his lips from Quentin’s skin. Quentin can’t help but blush, but he knows his eyes are lit up like a Christmas tree.

 

Without warning, Eliot grabs Margo and pulls her into a kiss, inches away from Quentin’s cock. He tilts their heads just enough so Quentin has the perfect view of his tongue slipping into her mouth. Margo moans with way more pleasure than anyone has the right to be feeling. Quentin suppresses a whine, watching carefully, frustrated and confused. Laughing, Margo glides her tongue against Eliot’s. Their movements are slow and torturous. Quentin knows this is the exact reaction they’re going for, but he still can’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have those tongues gliding over his cock. He bucks a bit, grazing his throbbing cock against their faces. Eliot looks up at Quentin and narrows his eyes before tightening the kiss and hiding their tongues from view. Margo breaks the kiss and looks up at Quentin, smug.

 

“How do you feel about fucking outside now, Coldwater?”

 

“I’m going to ask you again,” Eliot says, “Would you like to join us, tonight?”

 

Quentin nods vigorously running a nervous tongue over his lips. At his affirmation, Eliot takes Quentin into his mouth. The groan that escapes Quentin is needy and haggard, his eyes flutter shut at the sensation. Margo stands, yanking Quentin into a fierce kiss. The movement muffles the moan he makes as Eliot's tongue slides over the head of his cock. Losing his balance, Quentin reaches behind him, eventually connecting with the feast-covered table. Once he’s steady, Eliot slides Quentin’s cock further into his mouth. As he reaches the base, he lets his tongue slip out of his mouth, just barely brushing his balls. The tickle of Eliot’s tongue results in another muffled moan into Margo’s mouth. Margo reaches for his free hand, guiding it to her breast as she takes his bottom lip between her teeth. Quentin gives her a firm squeeze, swiping his thumb over her nipple. He feels something he doesn’t expect and swipes again. No way! Hard metal on either side of nipple fills him with just as many questions as it does delight.

 

“Wha—” he attempts to ask, but she recaptures his lips almost as quickly as he separated them. He repeats the stroke over her nipple, this time earning a surprisingly genuine moan as she slides her tongue back into his mouth. He wants to ask if the piercing adds to the sensation but that is a stupidly unsexy question. He should just stop overthinking and enjoy the moment, but he can’t help it; he’s never seen nipple piercings up close before. He teases them between his fingers just to hear her moan again.

 

Eliot slips Quentin’s cock from his mouth, quickly replacing it with his hand as he speaks, “They’re super sensitive.” Firm strokes of Eliot’s hand over the head of Quentin’s cock have him bucking into his fist, barely registering his words. “That’s half the fun.”

 

Margo withdraws her tongue from Quentin’s mouth, laughing cruelly at god only knows what.

As she pulls her blouse over her head, Quentin can’t help but be a bit awestruck. Her warm skin looks incredible in the moonlight, and the jewelry in her nipples only adds to the experience. His eyes wander up from her breasts, back to her face. Her gaze is amused, yet expectant as she removes a necklace that he hadn’t noticed until just now. The necklace is made of white ropes, carefully woven into clever knots that make him a little self-conscious of his failed Cub Scout days. Before he can consider it too carefully, Eliot’s mouth is back around his cock with more vigor than before. Quentin’s eyes fall shut at the feeling of Eliot’s tongue swirling over the head of him; a needy hand works its way into Eliot’s hair in appreciation.

 

“Scale of one to ten,” Margo’s voice pulls him out of his rapid descent into ecstasy.  “How do you feel about ropes?”

 

“Ropes?”

 

Eliot’s mouth comes to halt, quickly slipping off of him; Quentin bucks his hips in an attempt to hold onto the feeling.

 

A wicked smirk spreads across Margo’s face as she watches him struggle. “Around your body, around your wrists, tying you down,” she dangles the necklace in front of him as she speaks, the magic coming off of it is heady and nearly overwhelming. Rope play is not new for Quentin, but enchanted rope certainly is. This is definitely not what he expected when Margo called him outside. “Holding you at our mercy,” she steps closer. “Begging.”

 

“Easy, Bambi,” Eliot warns, running a soothing hand up Quentin’s side. “You’ll scare the boy.” Quentin furrows his brow at the statement, should he be offended by that? Eliot looks up at him with a patronizingly gentle face, cooing a bit as he strokes his hip in a calming manner. Yeah, he should definitely be offended.

 

Quentin clears his throat before he speaks, but it’s probably not helping his case, “I’m not that vanilla, guys.” Eliot and Margo share a quick look, but the exact sentiment is unclear to Quentin. “I’ve been tied up before,” he adds, just to be clear.

 

Utter delight flickers through Eliot's eyes before being replaced with what looks to be genuine concern, “So, yes rope?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Yes rope,” Quentin confirms with a firm nod, very determined to prove himself. The look of complete surprise on Eliot’s face fills Quentin with pride. He knows he probably looks stupid, but can’t help but beam.

 

“Perfect!” Margo says with what might be the first hint of genuine excitement he’s ever heard out of her. “Traffic lights good for you?” she asks, suddenly serious as she waits for his answer.  

 

“Uh, yes,” he says, taking a second to work out what she meant. “Red for full stop, yellow meaning we’re pushing my limits,” he says with a proud smile when it clicks. “All very familiar.” Another reassuring nod.

 

Margo places a surprisingly gentle hand on his cheek and looks him in the eyes. “I want you to know that those are there for you if you need them,” her voice is soft and full of concern, it almost doesn't sound like Margo. “No one will be upset or disappointed if you need to tap out.” How she could have possibly know that he occasionally struggles with that feeling is beyond him, but he nods, silently promising to do his best to speak up if he needs to. Satisfied with his response, Margo responds by nodding toward the ground, opening her hand in a gesture that indicates a desire for a specific response, but he’s not entirely sure what she expects.

 

“On your knees,” she commands, though her voice is still soft.

 

Kneeling at her feet, Quentin watches as Eliot looks from him, back to Margo who takes the necklace and places it around his neck. Confused, an awkward laugh escapes him and he runs his hands through his hair for what is likely to be the last time this evening. Margo comes up behind him, pulling his arms behind his back. Resting his hands one above the other, both flush against his back, she traces a single finger around both wrists before dragging it up his back. The scratch of her fingernail sends a chill through him as it traces over his shoulder. Margo closes the space between them, the hard metal and her soft breasts a striking contrast as they press against his back. Wrapping her arm around him, her finger continues its journey around his body, uninterrupted, as it trails across his chest. When she reaches his opposite shoulder, she brings her other hand to meet the first. A second finger replaced the first as it scratches around his back in a diagonal heading straight towards his wrists.  

 

Eliot spins Quentin slowly in Margo’s arms she continues to trace around his body, occasionally dipping into the spaces where his elbows don’t touch his body. When she reaches her original starting point, Eliot holds him in place, one hand at his shoulder, another on his hip. A rough kiss against his neck nearly distracts him from the sight of Margo walking around him, curling her fingers about each other in complicated shapes he doesn’t recognize. She speaks low, beneath her breath in what is likely Japanese but he isn’t entirely sure. The necklace begins to unravel around his neck, one end winding around his body before wrapping around his wrists. The ropes cinch tight enough to bind his wrists together before knotting themselves off at one end. The free end begins to trail along his body, firm and deliberate, following the path Margo traced out with her fingers. The press of the ropes against his skin is equal parts commanding and reassuring; they create an unmistakable presence that he can both fear the authority of and trust to keep him safe. As she finishes speaking the words, a golden web of light shoots along the ropes and round his body, making little constellation points where they meet; it almost looks like a ward. Quentin makes a note to ask Margo about this when he’s less tied up.

 

Allowing his eyes to fall closed, Quentin sighs, relaxing into the hold of the ropes. He relaxes his arms, allowing the ropes to support their full weight for now. Another sigh, he can’t help it when the softest smile spreads across his face. He’s missed this.

 

“Oh, you _have_ done this before!” Margo says, running two fingers between the rope and his chest. She taps the ropes twice in rapid succession and they tighten around him just a little more.

 

Eliot wraps a strong hand around the ropes cross-crossing above his bound wrists. “This should be fun,” he says, excited. A second hand claps firmly around his hip, the motion pulling Quentin upright; he hadn’t realized he’d begun to sway and slump. “Up, up!” Eliot days giving him two quick tips on his hip in time with his words.

 

As Quentin rises to his feet, gently guided by Eliot’s firm hold on the ropes, Margo props herself against a nearby tree, hiking her skirt up as Eliot leads Quentin over to her. When he reaches Margo, Eliot tugs hard on the ropes, pulling Quentin downward. He falters a bit before bending his knees to kneel before her, he takes a deep breath, trusting Eliot to steady him. He looks up at Margo’s face and back down to find her casually trailing a few fingers along her vulva. The sight of them slipping briefly into her before tracing back over her clit makes his throat dry. He can’t believe this is happening.

 

“Well?” Eliot asks with a slight nudge against the ropes.

 

“You gonna lick it or what?” Margo asks, more playful than truly annoyed.

 

Quentin leans forward to bring his mouth to her lips, but is stopped in place by Eliot's grip on the ropes. Quentin looks up at Margo, trying to hide his annoyance at their little game. Margo laughs at his frustration and Eliot loosens his grip. Quentin quickly seizes the opportunity to bring his mouth over her clit. He sucks hard, swirling his tongue over her until she moans. Giving her a broad stroke with the flat of his tongue, he finds himself wanting desperately to have free use of his hands. He never noticed just how much he relies on them during oral until now. As he traces delicate spirals along her clit, her hand wanders into her hair. He sighs at the feeling of her nails raking against his scalp, and increases the pressure of his mouth. Tilting his head to deepen his strokes, he feels her grip his hair harder, pressing him hard against her. Her hips begin to grind slow circles against his mouth. He tries to open his mouth a little more, but he’s being pulled away by his hair. Eliot pulls on the ropes, fully disconnecting Quentin from her lips.

 

He whines a little at the loss, looking up at them with desperate eyes. Before he can put up a fuss, Eliot releases his hold on the ropes and backs away. Quentin hears the clank and jingle of Eliot’s belt buckle. Margo tugs his hair back, forcing him to meet her gaze as he waits. She turns her gaze to what Quentin can only assume is Eliot undressing, making a point to bite her lip as her eyes follow his movements. She runs her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, curling her lips into a lecherous smile. A quick glance down at him and the release of her grip on his hair seem to give him permission to look.

 

Turning his head, he gets his first glimpse of Eliot as he steps into his field of vision. The warm light of the Edison bulbs give his bare skin a nice glow, but none of that matters when Quentin catches sight of Eliot’s hand sliding slowly along the considerable length of his cock. He watches slack-jawed and mesmerized as a stroke forward pulls his foreskin over the head. Quentin moans as the backstroke gradually reveals the head, this time glistening a bit in the light. Eliot’s hands are pretty big, and they still do not cover the full span of his cock.

 

“Holy shit,” he whispers beneath his breath without meaning to. Quentin has seen a dick or two in his days, but never one quite like this.

 

He wants to reach out and touch, but the ropes hold him in place. He looks back up to Margo knowing she can feel the desperation in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Licking his lips, he glances over to Eliot and quickly finds himself being moved to the side. He shakes his head to rattle the confusion loose, but is quickly captivated by the sight of Eliot pulling Margo’s hips away from the tree. In a fluid movement, Eliot lifts one of her legs and slips his cock into her, completely bare. It occurs to Quentin at this moment that they didn’t discuss barriers, he would definitely prefer to use them, but he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t the hottest thing he’s ever watched.

 

Margo moans, loud and uninhibited in what Quentin is pretty sure is a performance, but he still can’t help but wonder what Eliot feels like—no matter how daunted he might be. Eliot’s cock pushes deeper into Margo, the stroke pushing her against the tree, and Quentin blinks hard, mouth agape, completely bewildered that Margo can take it. Where does it all go?

 

His eyes glaze over as he watches Eliot move in and out of Margo slowly like he’s trying to feel every inch of her until he pulls out entirely. Quentin furrows his brow, trying to anticipate their next move. Margo drops her leg and laughs deep in her throat as Eliot turns to face Quentin. In a single stride, Eliot’s cock meets Quentin’s eye level, glistening from Margo. Quentin glances up at Eliot with needy eyes, silently asking to taste. A nod from Eliot and a stroke of Margo’s hand along his jaw give Quentin permission to take Eliot into his mouth. He leans forward, mouth wide, but is stopped short by Margo grabbing hold of the rope harness. Quentin struggles against his grasp, inching forward, sticking his tongue out to try to get a quick taste. Margo loosens her hold just enough for Quentin to make contact; his cheek colliding sloppily with Eliot’s cock. Turning his head, Quentin maneuvers Eliot into his mouth, employing his tongue way more than he’s used to. Closing his mouth fully around Eliot, he sighs. The taste of Margo on Eliot’s cock is heady and exquisite, the most primal experience of his life. He slides Eliot further into to mouth, desperate for more. He moans, sliding his tongue along the underside of Eliot’s cock. These two truly are made to go together in every way. His cock is painfully hard, Quentin wants nothing more but to reach down and give it a good stroke, but his hands are still bound behind him by Margo’s ropes. He bucks his hips hard, desperate to come into contact with whatever he can find.

 

“You think he likes it?” Margo asks playfully, running her fingers through Q’s hair as she watches him writhe against nothing. Quentin knows he looks overly eager, but they taste so fucking good. He slides back to the head, working his tongue over Eliot in tight little spirals. He sucks hard, trying to fight back the self-consciousness. It’s been a while since he’s had a dick in his mouth, and he isn’t quite sure if he’s any good at it. Eliot snakes a hand into Quentin’s hair, moaning softly. Quentin moans in response, pleased that he must be doing it right. For a second, he thinks Eliot might have read his mind,  then he remembers Eliot’s distaste for Psychics.

 

Eliot slowly withdraws his cock from Quentin’s mouth, briefly cupping his face before turning to Margo. “Shall we put him out of his misery?”  

 

“Why not?” Margo’s voice is blasé, but her eyes burn with a fierce hunger.

 

A strong arm wraps around Quentin, turning him around before resting directly on top of the ropes binding him. Eliot’s skin is hot as his chest connects with his back, his body hard against him. Eliot’s free hand wraps around Quentin’s hips, quickly seizing his cock. Firm deliberate strokes start to offer the relief he’s been craving. His eyes fall shut and he lets his body go limp in Eliot’s hold, trusting both Eliot and the ropes to hold him. Eliot places a wet kiss to the side of Quentin’s neck and he increases the pace of his hand along his cock.

 

“Open your eyes,” Margo commands, “You’re missing good shit.”  She’s not wrong, he looks up to find her leaning against the tree again, two fingers buried in her pussy. She throws her head back, moaning as he watches. She slides her fingers back out, unbearably slow, tracing over her clit before curling her fingers to beckon him over. Eliot releases his grip on Quentin’s cock and bends him forward to meet Margo. Quentin returns his mouth to her vulva, licking broad strokes before sliding his tongue between her lips. Margo moans, rocking her hips against his mouth. Quentin takes this to mean he’s not doing enough and captures her clit between his lips hard. She laughs in response, but her breathing is getting heavy, so he doesn’t take too much offense. He nips at her clit again, this time soothing it with a wet kiss.

 

Eliot’s hands begin to wander along Quentin’s back, accented by soft kisses down his spine.  Eliot grips his ass hard, kneading firmly before running a finger along his asshole. Stroking again, Eliot adds justs enough pressure to make Quentin moan against Margo before spreading his legs a little wider. Something warm strokes his asshole so quickly he’s not entirely sure he didn’t hallucinate it. He feels it again, this time lingering a bit before licking over his perineum.  

 

“Holy…” his breath catches in his throat at the feeling, stopping his words. He can’t help but pause from eating Margo. This feels so much better than he imagined. Eliot’s tongue strokes small circles against his asshole, pressing lightly against him. Quentin moans again; he’s completely bewildered by the fact this is even happening. The one time he hinted to a partner that he wanted to get eaten out, they balked and saw themselves out. He’s kept that desire pretty close to his chest ever since. Eliot reaches around to grasp Quentin’s cock. Stroking him in time with clever strokes of his tongue evokes a loud whine. Quentin can barely keep up with all the sensation.

 

“New?” Eliot asks diving right back in, his tongue flicking rapidly over Quentin’s asshole.

 

Quentin groans as he nods in affirmation, resisting the urge to push back into Eliot’s mouth.

 

Eliot hooks both hands around Quentin’s thighs, pulling him closer. “Hopefully a good new sensation,” he says before a broad stroke with the flat of his tongue. Switching to sharp strokes with the tip of his tongue, Eliot presses into Quentin, causing him to yelp at the feeling.

 

Margo places a hand on Quentin’s shoulder, steadying him in place. He leans into her arm as he moans beneath Eliot’s tongue. “Very,” he finally responds once he finds himself composed enough to register Eliot’s words. He can’t remember the last time sex felt this good. He looks up at Margo, suddenly afraid of what she may be thinking about his unbridled response. He bites his lip, nervous, and sorely missing having a free hand to push his hair into his face.

 

“Hey,” she says, bringing her other hand to his face. “Don’t overthink it,” she strokes his cheek and smiles so warmly he’s half convinced she isn’t Margo. “What did I tell you about El being good with his mouth?” she says with a smirk and Quentin is glad to have her behaving in a way he’s familiar with. “Relax and enjoy it.”

 

Eliot pulls back from Quentin’s asshole, the disappointment in his whine is enough to startle some birds in a nearby bush. Eliot laughs, his voice full of endearment as he replaces his mouth with his thumb. “Don’t worry, we’re just getting started,” he says, reaching for something out of Quentin’s sight. Before Quentin has the chance to see what it is, Margo pulls his face back against her pussy. Not one to deny a beautiful woman her pleasure, he picks up where he left off, sucking her clit hard before giving it a quick nip. Margo places her other hand on Quentin’s shoulder, in an attempt to steady him as Eliot’s hands grips his hips. He feels like a seesaw between them, swaying beneath their opposing pressure, unable to steady himself without the use of his arms. Why Quentin can only assume is the head of Eliot’s cock slides against his asshole, slick with lube he must’ve grabbed while Quentin was distracted with Margo. Jesus Christ, he can’t get over how big he is. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, when a single, slim finger presses slowly into him.

 

“Oh thank god,” Quentin sighs, releasing the breath as Eliot’s finger continues to slide into him.

 

Eliot and Margo erupt into a fit of laughter. Quentin can’t help but join in their infectious amusement, laughing at himself for the first time in a while.

 

“Did you think he was just going to ram it into you?” Her laughter shakes him in place a bit, but he catches some balance by leaning into her grip.

 

“What kind of savages do you think we are?” he asks. “Rule number one,” he says, his calm demeanor feels almost unfair to Quentin as he’s coming undone beneath them. “Always prepare your lovers for the main event.” The finger inside Quentin curls upward, stroking his prostate. Quentin groans, biting Margo’s arm without thinking. “Rule number two: the main event can be whatever we want,” he withdraws his finger, Quentin tries not to react with disappointment. “Even this, if you prefer,” Eliot runs the flat of his tongue against Quentin’s asshole. Quentin whimpers at the feeling, he doesn’t want this to end.  

 

“What do you want, Q?” Margo asks, lifting his face up from her pussy.

 

“More,” he says, breathless, finally allowing himself to push back into Eliot. Eliot smiles against his asshole, increasing the speed and pressure of his tongue. He reaches back around to grab hold of his cock. His strokes are torturously slow, Quentin tries to buck his hips to increase the pace, but he can’t get the right leverage without the use of his arms.  

 

Eliot pulls away from Quentin’s ass, sliding a hand up his back. “Bambi first,” he says, giving Quentin two quick pats on his back. Taking his cue, Quentin returns his mouth to Margo’s clit. His tongue glides hungrily over her before capturing her between his lips. He wants nothing more than to slip her a few fingers to help her get off, but the ropes force him to rely on his mouth to complete the job. Swirling his tongue over her, he sighs when her hand wanders back into his hair. Another firm suck on her clit elicits a deep moan, and she presses him hard against her, guiding him.

 

“Don’t stop,” she groans, breathy. The hand wrapped around Quentin’s cock begins to stroke faster. Maintaining the suction, he glides his tongue over her. Her hips grind against his face to increase the pressure. Behind him, Eliot continues his wicked tongue work on his asshole, his hand finally stroking Quentin at a quick, steady pace. Eliot presses his tongue hard, slipping into Quentin ever so slightly. Quentin mimics the stroke on Margo, dipping between her lips before seizing her clit between his teeth in a moment of boldness that surprises them both. That must have done it for her, because the next thing he knows, she’s shaking around him, moaning low in her throat. The hand in his hair yanks hard just long enough to hurt before she lets go, slumping forward a bit. Quentin drops his head, disconnecting from Margo. Now that his focus isn’t split, he can really get lost in the feeling of Eliot’s mouth on him. His breath catches in his throat as Eliot’s hand begins to outpace his mouth. The urgency of his mouth increasing with each stroke. Quentin pushes back against Eliot, the movement earning a stronger grip from his hand. The sensation is blinding. Quentin’s entire body goes white-hot with pleasure, muscles tensing hard for a brief moment before he falls completely limp.  Expecting to hit the ground, he’s relieved when he collapses into a sweaty, heaving Margo instead. A soft kiss and two taps on his back unwork the spell on the ropes. They quickly unravel and fall away, nearly melting off of his skin.

 

The world is spinning as Quentin heaves, trying to catch his breath. As he starts to come down, he chuckles, completely blown away by everything that just happened. Margo is laughing too, and for once he’s sure it isn’t at him.

 

“Fuck,” is all he can manage, looking up at Eliot for the first time in what feels like hours.  Grabbing a napkin from the table. Eliot wipes his hand clean of Quentin’s cum, but not before slipping one of his fingers into his mouth. Quentin is taken aback at how something so simple can be that sexy. The sight of Eliot cleaning up reminds him that Eliot hasn’t gotten off yet. Quentin reaches for his cock, but misses, having yet to recover his fine motor skills. “Shit,” he sighs, laughing in nervous defeat. “You didn’t get t—”

 

“Next time,” Eliot says, sliding his way into the cuddle puddle. “I got more than what I came here for tonight, I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want a detailed visual of the chest harness they used on Q, take a moment to check out [ **the video** ](https://youtu.be/6wBFvq8xaY4) that first taught me how to tie it in real life.


End file.
